


nothing but time and a face that you lose

by thesaddestboner



Series: in the shadows [9]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Detroit Tigers, F/M, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Non-Famous Family Members As Characters, Not!Fic, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl!Porcello 'verse snippet from Ryan Perry's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing but time and a face that you lose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unreckless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unreckless/gifts).



> Written for a prompt meme. [**unreckless**](http://unreckless.livejournal.com/) wanted: _give me something from girl!Porcello. Perry should be around, I think, maybe having a deja vu moment._ I made an attempt, but I struggled at writing girl!Rick from an outsider POV (like, more outside than Max, I guess), ended up jossing myself with a later piece, and never finished this. I keep attempting Ryan's POV, but nothing's clicked yet.
> 
> Slapdash title from "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead," by Stars.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Ryan pulls into the players’ parking structure, flashing his credentials to the attendant, and slides effortlessly into the first open spot he sees. Vanessa has the heat on full blast, and she’s rubbing her hands in front of one of the vents.

Ryan puts up the windows and snags the keys out of the ignition, pocketing them with a swift flick of his wrist.

“You ready,” he asks her, pulling down his sun visor and flipping open the small mirror to check the state of his tie.

Vanessa opens her purse and pulls out a plastic compact and a tube of lipstick. “Do you think the park’ll be heated?”

Ryan snorts. “The charity thing’s in the Legend’s Den, or whatever they’re calling it these days,” he says, closing the visor and turning toward Vanessa. “It’s heated.”

Vanessa tucks the lipstick and compact back in her purse. “It’d make more sense to have it at some fancy restaurant or something,” she says, with a sigh.

Ryan opens his door and steps out. He reaches up and fiddles with the tie around his neck some more. His breath crystalizes the second he opens his mouth and he can feel the Detroit winter already seeping into his bones. “His parents didn’t want that, Van. They thought having it at Comerica would seem more—”

“I know, I know, more accessible,” Vanessa finishes, slipping out of the passenger seat and joining him at his side. She wraps her scarf around her neck and runs a hand through her long, dark hair. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’m gonna get frostbit, Ryan. And you’re not even wearing a coat.” Vanessa reaches up and brushes at his shoulder.

Ryan catches her hand in his and gives it a quick squeeze. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“We both know that this kind of stuff isn’t your most favorite thing to do,” he says, dropping her hand. He glances down and picks at his slick, satiny tie.

Vanessa shrugs and slips the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “It’s important.” She slips her hand around Ryan’s and tugs him toward the entrance.

-

Ryan almost loses his nerve and walks back to the car when he sees that Rick’s mother is at the entrance, greeting all the guests. He feels Vanessa’s hand on his back, gently nudging him forward and then he and Rick’s mother lock gazes, and he can’t make the clean getaway he’d been hoping for.

He can see a little bit of Rick in her, around the eyes. It’s been over a year and it feels like this—seeing Rick’s mother—shouldn’t be as hard as it is.

Ryan closes his eyes, counts to five, and steps forward. He wonders if it’s appropriate to call her Pat, if he should give her a hug. He feels like his world’s been knocked off its axis again, just a little bit. “Hi, Mrs. Porcello,” he says, settling on a handshake and a nod.

“Hi, Ryan. Thank you for coming.” Mrs. Porcello smiles back and gives his hand a squeeze.

Once they’re inside and they’ve checked Vanessa’s coat and scarf, Ryan finds their place setting and tucks the card in his pocket. He spots Verlander and Zumaya doing shots at the bar, and decides to go over and say hi.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Justin and Joel, okay,” he says, turning to Vanessa.

“Sure. I’ll save our seats.” Vanessa leans in and pecks him on the cheek. “You’re doing good.”

Ryan watches until she makes it to their table, and then heads to the bar.

Zumaya spots Ryan and waves him over, holding up an empty shot glass. “You here for the refreshments?”

Verlander turns and nods hello, swallowing down whatever was in his glass. “Hey, man. How was your winter?” He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, turning his empty glass in his hand.

Ryan claps him on the back and gives Zumaya a friendly fist-bump. “It was all right. Same old, you know? Spent most of it working out and enjoying quality time with my lady. Can’t complain.”

Verlander grins. “Zoom, tell him.”

“Tell him what,” Zumaya asks, glancing from Verlander to Ryan and back again.

“What we were talkin’ about earlier, asshole.” Verlander laughs, slapping Zumaya on his bad shoulder, the one he had surgery on a couple years before.

Zumaya brushes his hand away and scowls. “Careful, man, don’t put me back on the D.L.”

Verlander huffs and kicks his feet like a kid. “I didn’t hit you that hard. Anyways,” Verlander says, turning toward Ryan and effectively blocking Zumaya out of their conversation, “me and Emily are pregnant.”

Ryan raises his eyebrows. “Both of you, huh? Impressive.”

Verlander gives him a gentle shove. “Ha ha, funny guy. Emily’s the one who’s gonna be doin’ all the hard work. But, yeah, we’re havin’ a kid.”

“Congrats, man. How far along is she?” Ryan asks, trying to muster up some interest and excitement.

“ ’Bout a month or two,” Verlander says, flashing his trademark smirk. “If it’s a boy, we’re gonna call him Richard, after my dad. Emily likes Stella for a girl, but I thought it seemed kinda old fashioned. Whaddaya think?”

Ryan shrugs. “Stella’s a nice name, I guess.”

Zumaya peers over Verlander’s shoulder. “I told him Joel was a good name.”

“Unlucky name,” Verlander tosses back, smirking some more.

Zumaya reaches around Verlander to stick a shot glass in Ryan’s hand. “Hey, fuck you, man. I’m doin’ just fine for myself.”

Ryan tips back and downs the shot in one go. It stings, goes right to his sinuses, and his eyes water. When he tries to focus on Verlander, he’s nothing but a blur of spiky brown hair and salmon-pink button down. “Well, that’s great, man. I’m happy to hear it.”

Verlander grabs Ryan by the shoulders—he’s always been a handsy drunk—and squeezes. “This’s gonna be a good year, I think.”

“Hopefully better than the last couple,” Ryan mutters.

Verlander lets go of him. “Yeah, hopefully.” Ryan doesn’t miss the look he throws toward the sign at the front of the room— _The Rick Porcello Foundation Presents the First Annual Detroit Tigers Better Halves Auction_ is stenciled in fancy cursive script. “It’s weird, you know?”

“What, the auction?” Ryan asks.

“I mean, it’s weird that this’s _his_ thing, his auction, you know?” Verlander nods toward the sign, toward the framed photograph of Rick that looks too much like one they’d have at a funeral.

Ryan looks over at the bartender. It’s going to be a long night if Verlander’s in a sentimental mood. He might as well stock up for the evening. “Jack and Coke. Heavy on the Jack, please.”

Verlander rests an elbow on the granite bar top. “Kinda wish they’d chosen a better picture,” he says, pointing to the photograph.

Ryan appraises the photograph. “It does kind of look like a yearbook photo.”

“Doesn’t look like him, man. That’s the problem,” Verlander says, nudging Ryan in the shoulder with his own. “That ain’t the Rick I remember.”

Ryan sighs and accepts his drink from the bartender, takes a long pull.

“Hey, guys.” Scherzer walks up to them, giving them a little wave. “How’s it going?”

“Hey, man, it’s good. How was your winter?” Verlander leans over and gives him a one-armed hug.

“My winter was good,” Scherzer says, laughing and hugging back awkwardly. He nods to Ryan over Verlander’s shoulder, stepping away and extending his hand. “Hey, man.”

Ryan accepts, pulling Scherzer into his chest and giving him a pat on the back. “What’s up, dude?”

“Just got in from St. Louis,” Scherzer says, leaning back against the bar. “I’m running on, like, three hours of sleep.” He rubs his thumb into his eye.

“Bad flight?”

“I guess you could say that,” Scherzer says, lowering his hand. He scans the crowd for something—or someone—and Ryan follows his gaze across the room, to a girl.

She looks familiar, and Ryan sifts through his mental Rolodex, trying to place a face with a name.

“Is that your girl?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Scherzer catches her eye and his mouth twitches into a faint smile. “You guys met, dude. Last spring.”

“Oh, right.” Ryan nods and sips at his Jack and Coke. “I thought she looked familiar. Guess that’s why.”

Scherzer turns and gives Ryan a funny look that he can’t decipher. “Yeah. That’s it.”

-

Ryan slips away to hide out in the bathroom halfway through. Auctions have never been his thing and he’s pretty sure they were never Rick’s thing either, even though they both participated when they had to. Too many stuffed shirts, Rick had said once. It’d made him nervous or something.

He splashes water in his face and fiddles with the sink fixtures, reluctant to head back just yet. It just isn’t right; he’s never been crazy about these things and the one person who’d make the whole evening bearable is—not here anymore.

Ryan finally decides to head back to his seat and steps out of the bathroom, running into someone and knocking them back.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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